


Good Morning

by Irelando



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irelando/pseuds/Irelando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Captain, your current proximity exceeds socially acceptable levels."</p>
<p>"Mmph."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

There was a perfectly good reason that decorated Starfleet Captain James Tiberius Kirk was leaning against the wall of the shuttle bay hundreds of feet away from the shuttle that would take him back to his ship. He told himself he wanted to watch his crew arrive, that he was curious to see which of them would return from their seven-day shore leave first.

The fact that this was a blatant lie didn’t bother Jim in the least. He just had to buy it enough to convince—

“Tell me you aren’t hungover.”

Speak of the devil.

“Morning, Bones.” Jim realized he’d closed his eyes at some point and cracked them open again, frowning at the bright morning sunlight reflecting off the medical case in his CMO’s hand.

“Damnit, Jim, of all the irresponsible—“

“I’m not hungover,” Jim protested, “I’m just—“ He yawned widely, a wave of dizziness rushing through him. “Tired.”

Bones didn’t look the least bit mollified. “Hmph. The night before we get back. You’d think that green-blooded hobgoblin would know better,” the doctor muttered, rummaging in his case.

Jim waved a hand. “Spock had nothing to do with it.” His eyes drifted closed again. He was honestly surprised Spock wasn’t here yet. They’d have walked to the shuttle bay together if Kirk hadn’t had to—

The unmistakable sound of a hypospray priming had Jim lurching away even before he opened his eyes to confirm it. “Woah, woah. What the hell is that for?”

“A little chemical wake-up call,” Bones answered in his usual growl, reaching for Jim’s arm. “Hold still.”

“No way,” Kirk retorted, pulling the limb out of reach so fast he nearly knocked himself over.

Bones came after him, relentless. “Can’t have you dozing off in that fancy chair of yours, Jim.”

“I’ll catch a nap on the way up.” Jim dodged another lunge. “Seriously, Bones, I don’t need—“

“Captain?"

Both Jim and McCoy stopped at the familiar voice. _Saved by the Vulcan_ , Jim thought. He grinned over Bones’ shoulder at his First Officer. “We’re not on duty yet, Spock.”

Spock gave an almost imperceptible tilt of his head before turning his vaguely quizzical look on McCoy. “Doctor, for what purpose are you attempting to medicate the Captain?”

“The damn idiot’s falling asleep against the wall. Standing up.”

Jim took his opening and grabbed his small bag from the ground, not-so-subtly using it as a shield as he darted past McCoy. “I’m fine. I’ve got an hour in the shuttle. Don’t worry about it. Spock, you coming?” Without waiting to see McCoy’s reaction to his winning smile, Jim headed briskly for the shuttle.

Bones’ grumbling was only barely audible beneath the sound of Spock’s footsteps as he caught up to Jim, falling easily into step beside him. Disapproval practically radiated from every inch of the Vulcan’s blue uniform shirt, though he maintained a stony silence.

That is, until another jaw-cracking yawn and the accompanying dizziness knocked Jim ever-so-slightly off course, and he bumped shoulders with Spock. It was apparently all the excuse Spock needed. “Captain—“

“Jim.”

“Captain,” Spock repeated pointedly, “When you left our quarters at 2100 last night you indicated that you would return within the hour.”

“I didn’t—“

“I believe the phrase you used was ‘back in a jiffy’. My inquiries into the meaning of the phrase indicated that you should have returned before I completed them.”

“I just had a little paperwork to do, that’s all.” Funny how that little eyebrow quirk could mean anything from confusion to amusement. Right now, it was definitely exasperation. “Okay, fine, so there was a little more left to do than I thought.”

“The condition of the bed this morning suggests you did not return to sleep last night.”

“Spock.”

“Further investigation of the door access logs indicated you did not return until 0600 this morning. Yet you were gone when I awoke at 0615.”

He’d left in hopes of avoiding this very conversation, in fact. “I think I set a new record for speed showering.”

“I fail to see how this is amusing. You have not slept in more than twenty-seven-point-four hours. Your human physiology—“

“It’s too early for that many syllables, Spock.” Jim turned and shoved his bag into the shuttle’s storage compartment.

“Captain—“

“You sound like Bones. And both of you sound like my mother.”

Spock stood stiffly at attention, hands clasped behind his back. “As your First Officer, it is my duty to—“

“Enough, Spock,” Jim said sharply. He wasn’t awake enough for this. “We’re not on duty for another four hours, so save it.” He glanced at Spock, caught his eyes for a moment, and sighed. “Please." 

The Vulcan exhaled slowly, some of the stiffness dropping from his posture. “Very well. Jim.”

“Better.” Jim flopped heavily into the middle seat of a row. Starfleet built for function over comfort, but just getting off his feet made his eyelids start to droop.

He heard a tiny, sharp exhale that from anyone else would have been a sigh. After a moment, Spock sat in the window seat to Jim’s left. He didn’t speak again.

The shuttle was quiet, even as it filled up with sleepy crew members. No one really wanted to make conversation at 0700, especially when half of them probably _were_ hungover. Jim dozed enough that by the time the pilot announced that they were ready to depart, he already had a crick in his neck from the awkward posture.

The shuttle hummed to life. The aisle seat next to Jim remained empty, but Jim didn’t mind. He was perfectly happy having the row to himself and his grumpy Vulcan.

Almost before he’d even realized he had the idea, Jim leaned over and let his cheek rest on Spock’s shoulder. The uniform material was far from soft, but it was familiar. The stiff shoulder beneath it was even more so.

“What are you doing?” Spock finally asked.

“Sleeping. Like you wanted.” Jim’s eyes were already closed, head fuzzy with sleep.

A moment passed. Jim could practically feel Spock struggling with the urge to point out Jim’s flagrant disregard for logical argument. He seemed to decide that a different tack was appropriate. “Captain, your current proximity exceeds socially acceptable levels.”

“Mmph,” Jim replied eloquently. He folded his arms loosely across his lap, tucking his feet closer to his chair. Spock remained as stiff as ever, but when the tips of Jim’s fingers brushed the back of the Vulcan’s hand, he didn’t pull away.

 _Love you,_ Jim thought drowsily.

The answer, when it came, was equal parts exasperated and affectionate. _Go to sleep, Jim._

From the row behind them, Jim heard Bones mumble, “This time I’m definitely gonna throw up on you.”


End file.
